#well except for percy phelps that one time

[swamp-adder]

I just read this fanfic which pointed out that after Watson moved out Holmes could have repurposed his bedroom for some other use but apparently chose to keep it as a guest room even though he basically never has any guests other than Watson, and now I can't stop thinking about it.

[drowning-in-deadlines]

Ok no, listen to this

We all know about the whole 7% solution thing in the Holmes books, right? No one missed that. (BBC Sherlock fans, no this is not about Sherlock. This is Holmes.)

And he states that he only uses it as a stimulant when he is out of work. Ok. But you can’t just give up on addiction that fast, even if your name is Sherlock Holmes. So how did he do it?

I have a theory: the man was on crack half the time.

I love the Holmes books, I’ve read them all at least a dozen times. And you can’t tell me they don’t read like a tumblr post 75% of the time. Or like an interaction between Will and Jem from The Infernal Devices. I mean in modern language, they would go something like this:

A Scandal in Bohemia

Watson: How are you going to find the photograph?

Holmes: Idk, probably set the house on fire

The Red Headed-League

Holmes: Hey, Watson, got a gun?

Watson: Yeah, you asked me to.

Holmes: Good.

Watson: You don’t? What did you bring with you?

Holmes: A whip.

The Speckled Band

Watson: So... there’s a leopard

Holmes: Yes.

Watson: What do we do then?

Holmes: Pray to God and run.

The Cardboard Box

Susan Cushing: That box has severed ears in it!

Holmes: Yeah, but look at that salt though.

The Naval Treaty

Percy Phelps: This is a very important letter, I can’t lose it, there will be a war if it gets out, I got brain fever and almost died when it was stolen-

Holmes: Sorry, I couldn’t find it. 

Percy:...

Holmes: April Fools!!!

The Final Problem:

Moriarty: *threatens Holmes*

Moriarty: *follows him to Reichenbach to kill him*

Holmes: Cool, can I write a letter?

The Empty House

Holmes: I died... not really.

Holmes: Time to scare the shit out of Mrs. Hudson, I miss her.

Watson: I thought you were dead!

Holmes: It appears that the rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated... by you.

The Priory School

Holmes: I sold my principles for 6000 pounds.

Watson: Whhaaatt??

Holmes: He’s just a rich white man, how much can it hurt?

Black Peter

Holmes: *enters with a harpoon*

Watson: Where the hell have you been roaming with that thing?

Holmes: I was trying to stab a pig.

Watson:...

Holmes: It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Charles Augustus Milverton

Watson: Okay, we’re supposed to steal this letter.

Holmes: Yup.

Watson: Except there’s this woman in front of the man we’re supposed to be stealing from, and she’s rambling about how he ruined her life.

Holmes: Yup.

Watson: Holmes, what do we do? Should we leave?

Holmes: No, let’s wait, I’m kinda curious how this is going to turn out.

.

.

.

Lestrade: Holmes, I need your help with this murder-

Holmes: Sounds like Watson did it.

Watson: 😶😶

The Second Stain

Lestrade: Look! The stain on the carpet doesn’t match the stain on the floor! Can you explain that, huh?

Holmes:...

Holmes: Bitch, someone rotated it.

The Bruce-Partington Plans

Holmes: Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Call 911!

Watson: Holmes? Everything all right? Did something bad happen? 

Holmes: No, nothing bad happened.

Watson: Then what-

Holmes: My brother is coming here.

Watson: But what-

Holmes: MY BROTHER IS COMING HERE

The Dying Detective

Holmes: I was dying.

Holmes: And now I’m not.

Watson:..

Watson: I feel like murdering you myself right now, not gonna lie.

The Devil’s Foot

Holmes: I think this is a deadly poison.

Holmes: Let’s both of us try it.

His Las Bow

Watson: I thought you retired.

Holmes: I did. But the level of jackassery here pulled me out of it.

Watson: Well, that’s true, there’s a war...

Holmes: I leave for 5 minutes and it all goes to shit.

Three Garridebs

Watson: Holmes, don’t hurt him!

Holmes: But he shot you!

Watson: Yeah, but-

Holmes: He shot you!

The Illustrious Client

Watson: Holmes, I heard you almost died! 

Holmes: Nah, I’m fine. What do you know about pottery?

Watson: What?

Holmes: Pottery, Watson. Specifically, Chinese Pottery. I want you to research on it.

The Blanched Soldier

Holmes: I want to write a story.

Holmes: And I don’t know how. 

Holmes: *writes the story*

Holmes: This is a pile of horseshit. I miss Watson.

I’d write about the long stories too, but my fingers are hurting now.

[xoteajays]

General and Domestic section for Circe x George

@hughstheforcelou

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?  george did after the yule ball. it went well and circe was very much like ‘thank merlin finally!’. fred popped up to finally be able to relentless tease them about it publicly.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?  not really but if anyone asks it was the yule ball. technically, it was probably a hogsmeade date where they bought a bunch of honeydukes candy and had a little snack date all to themselves. 

What was their first kiss like?  they were both very excited to kiss each other but ultimately george was the first to lean in, albeit he was grinning and she was giggling and it was a little awkward because of that but they had a lot of little kisses in quick succession to the first kiss. 

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?  i’d say they were each other’s first everythings. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference?  i use the phelps’ heights, so george is about 6′3″, circe is 5′5″. they have a 2 year age difference with george as the elder. 

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?  sirius took a bit to warm up to george after finding out he was into circe and sirius being a little protective of her. the weasleys (bar ron) love circe and she gets along with practically all of them except ron and sometimes percy. 

Who takes the lead in social situations?  circe. george is the quieter twin, he’s happy to let circe lead a lot of the time. 

Who gets jealous easier?  neither really, albeit circe has on more than one occasion pretended to not know the difference between fred and george and tease that she’s going to kiss fred but george pulls them apart before it’s ever happened. they (circe and fred) think it’s funny. 

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?  george does and in the same vein of circe panicking about him first saying ‘i love you’, she very quickly says yes and then later panics a little bit because of her irrational fears about people loving her and then dying. she quickly bypasses that though because they’ve been together a few years by that point and nothing bad has happened since the war. 

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?  it’s decently sized, pretty rustic vibes, a lot of yellow. she invited all the weasleys, the golden trio, and a few of their classmates, but notably the greengrass sisters and draco who comes along with astoria. 

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?  they have 4. the oldest (aludra), the twins (fred ii and rubeus), and the youngest (lacerta). aludra is girly and emotional, fred ii is a prankster like his namesake, rubeus is a softer prankster with a green thumb, lacerta is a willowy dreamy type. 

Do they have any pets?  they have circe’s cat, verity, and her owl, fortuna, until both eventually pass. circe desperately wants a crup. the kids have a few pygmy puffs. 

Who’s the stricter parent?  maybe circe, though it’s a very loose kind of strict. 

Who kills the bugs in the house?  george because bugs are circe’s worst fear, bad enough to be her boggart. 

How do they celebrate holidays?  they do it big most times with the exception of valentine’s day. valentine’s day is their own day and they just get away to themselves and relax. 

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?  george even though he’s the one with the job. circe is food and morning-cup-of-tea driven but eventually gives in, even if just to let george sleep in her arms while she plays with his hair. they’ll sometimes spend hours in the morning on days when george doesn’t work. 

Who’s the better cook?  neither are particularly good cooks, but they do know a lot of cooking spells to compensate. she swears george to silence so he’ll never tell his mother about it. she does have some recipes that she came make when she does bring food to family dinners but they’re mostly desserts. 

[gryffinpuffthunderbird]

8, 13, & 19 for the Harry Potter asks :)

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask!Oof these ones are hard and took a lot of thought and ramblingAnyway, here we go:

8. Who do you think was the best father figure towards Harry?

Hmm.. Tough one. Some people might rush to say Dumbledore, but dear gods no.I think Sirius would have been, given the chance. But the actual time he and Harry got to spend together, even long distance, was sadly not that much. But he was a good one.Part of me said Remus, but on second thought I realized he’s more of an Uncle figure.

I think Arthur really got the most time with Harry, and basically adopted him immediately just like Molly did. Arthur and Molly treated him like a kid that needed loving family, not some famous hero. Included him in the family’s holiday to see the Quidditch World Cup. And went with Harry to the Ministry, giving him advice and support before the bogus disciplinary meeting. (And then waiting for him at the doors since he wasn’t allowed in)He was probably the first example of what a father should actually be like that Harry had witnessed, much less experienced.

13. Who was the bravest character in Harry Potter and why?

Well, I think I’ve got 3 in the running. So many characters are so damn brave, but these ones really stand out to me. (Apart from Weasleys because I am always biased towards them). And obviously Harry is, but since he’s the protagonist, and the one whose point of view narrates the whole story, I’m going with other characters.

Of course Hermione is up there. She has endless nerve, doesn’t know how to give up, and is probably definitely the only reason Harry and Ron survived several dangers. Stands up to bullies, for herself and others. Even when its against the hate of muggleborns. And standing up, face-to-face to hate speech aimed towards people like yourself is certainly a scary thing. Is more aware of the rules than anyone, but so good at breaking them when necessary. Good at telling her friends off when they’re being idiots. Faces dangers while so scared she is probably shaking inside, but doesn’t show it. And made her own loving parents forget she ever existed, just to keep them safe.

Neville is another. I know exactly how difficult it is to not only do something most would consider brave, but to do anything even a little brave when you have debilitating anxiety. He’s scared of many things through the first book. But by the end of it, he stands up to his friends for the good of his House. Even knowing how strong they are. Sure it fails, but he did it anyway.He works his way past his Grandmother’s verbal abuse, past his self doubt, past his tendency towards clumsiness and forgetfulness. In the end, he not only fights authority in a school being run by the enemy all year, but stands up to the most terrifying person in Wizarding history.

And then there’s Dobby. From a race that is not only entirely enslaved, but conditioned to be unable to imagine a life without, considering themselves in their place. Except Dobby. He didn’t feel satisfied with that life, he had the daring to imagine a better life, and to want it for himself. A little so-so about whether he felt worthy of it, since life as a slave to the Malfoys left him with so many self-abusive tendencies. Despite his fear of his masters, he sneaked out to warn Harry of danger awaiting him. He plays the same role again a few years later, this time warning Harry of Umbridge.  Then he goes back into his old master’s home to rescue our heroes and company, endangering and sacrificing his life in the process.

I can’t help but admire the kicked underdogs who grow strong and kind in spite of it. (And totally didn’t get a bit emotional when writing about Dobby...)

19. Favourite Weasley?

One does not simply choose a favorite Weasley!!! But let’s look at the contenders shall we?

The first Weasley I adored was Ron, because of course. The first movie (I saw it in theatres) was my introduction to the franchise, I was about the same age as Rupert, and always had a thing for redheads. Early adolescent crush for sure.

I admire Ginny like you wouldn’t believe. She puts up with so much shit and doesn’t get enough credit. And she’s ballsy as hell. I wish I was half as ballsy as Ginny.

The Twins are the twins. They’re cute, funny, brilliant, and determined. Been crushing on them since high school. Setting foot in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in Universal Studios was truly a magical moment. Almost got to meet the Phelps Twins at ECCC, but it didn’t pan out. Saw their panel, though.

Bill is a hot, awesome badass, with an even more hot and badass wife. I would love to have seen more of Bill in the books and certainly in the movies.

And Charlie. He’s so cute. And sweet. And works with dragons. And loves his family. And works with dragons! He can sew, and I’m sure is an excellent (and the coolest) uncle. And the freckles. And did I mention he works with f***ing dragons?! Its badass enough to mention thrice. He sometimes reminds me of my actual fiance. Why did we not have more of him in the books? Or at all in the movies? We were robbed.

I love Molly and Arthur and Percy to bits as well. But its the above listed that are fighting for dominance in the ‘favorite Weasley’ contest. It really kinda shifts. I guess if I had to say at this moment? Its a tossup between the Twins and Charlie.

These adorable little shits. Amusingly the actors’ personalities are kind of the other way around. From what I’ve seen, on panels or otherwise, James who plays Fred is quieter and more laid back, and Oliver who plays George is talkative and is more outgoing. Maybe someday I’ll meet them at a Con. I still need to get a Fred hug to recover from Deathly Hallows.

(Sam Heughan is so far my favorite fancast/faceclaim/whatever you’re calling it. Never actually watched Outlander, but dang he’s nice to look at, I gotta say. I mentally picture Charlie pretty close, but some slight differences. Go to Romania? Spend time with dragons? Spend said dragon time also with Charlie Weasley? Don’t mind if I do...)

[msclaritea]

~Doctor Watson~

Doctor Watson : Prolegomena to the study of biographical problem, with a bibliography of Sherlock Holmes is a study written by S. C. Roberts first published in 1931 by Faber & Faber Ltd. (Criterion Miscellany No. 28).

Part I 'As in every phenomenon the Beginning remains always the most notable moment; so with regard to any great man, we rest not till, for our scientific profit or not, the whole circumstances of his first appearance in this Planet, and what manner of Public Entry he made, are with utmost completeness rendered manifest.' So wrote Carlyle, an author from whose voluminous works quotations would readily fall from the lips of Dr. Watson himself. But to render manifest the whole circumstances of Watson's first appearance in this planet is a task before which Boswell himself might well have quailed. Certainly Boswell might have run half over London and fifty times up and down Baker Street with very little reward for his trouble. Where were the friends or relatives who could have given him the information about Watson's early life? 'Tadpole' Phelps might have given a few schoolboy anecdotes; young Stamford might have been traced to Harley Street or some provincial surgery, and have talked a little about Watson at Bart.'s; his brother had been a skeleton in the family cupboard; his first wife, as seems probable, died some five or six years after marriage; Holmes himself might have deduced much but, except in the famous instance of the fifty-guinea watch, seldom concerned himself with Watson's private affairs. The young Watson, in short, is an elusive figure. 'Data, data, give us data,' as Holmes might have said. Since he took his doctor's degree at the University of London in 1878, Watson's birth may with a fair measure of confidence be assigned to the year 1852. [1] The place of his birth is wrapped in deeper mystery. At first sight the balance of evidence seems to point to his being a Londoner; much of his written work, at any rate, conveys the suggestion that he was most fully at home in the sheltering arms of the great metropolis: Baker Street, the Underground, hansom cabs, Turkish baths, November fogs — these, it would seem, are of the very stuff of Watson's life. On the other hand, when, broken in health and fortune, Watson stepped off the Orontes on to the Portsmouth jetty, he 'naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained.' It is difficult to believe that Watson, in whose veins there flowed a current of honest sentiment, could thus have described his native city. On the whole, we incline to the view that he was born either in Hampshire or Berkshire; it was as he travelled to Winchester [2] ('the old English capital', as he nobly calls it) that he was moved by the beauty of the English countryside: 'the little white fleecy clouds... the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeping out from amidst the light green of the new foliage'. 'Are they not fresh and beautiful?' he cried out to Holmes... Again, Watson chafed at an August spent in London. It was not the heat that worried him (for an old Indian campaigner, as he said, a thermometer at 90° had no terrors); it was homesickness: he 'yearned for the glades of the New Forest or the shingle of Southsea...' [3] Concerning his parents Watson preserves a curious silence. That his father (H. Watson) was or had been, in comfortable circumstances may fairly be inferred from his possession of a fifty-guinea watch, and from his ability to leave his elder son with good prospects and to send his younger son to a school whence young gentlemen proceeded to Cambridge and the Foreign Office. Watson's reticence about his elder brother is hardly surprising: squandering the legacy bequeathed to him by his father he lived in poverty, 'with occasional short intervals of prosperity'. Possibly he was an artist who occasionally sold a picture; more probably he was a gambler. In any event, he died of drink round about the year 1886. [4] Concerning Watson's boyhood two facts stand out clearly: he spent a portion of it in Australia, and he was sent to school in England. The reference to Australia is categorical. As he stood hand-in-hand with Miss Morstan in the grounds of Pondicherry Lodge, 'like two children', as he significantly says, the scenes of his own childhood came back to him: 'I have seen something of the sort on the side of a hill near Ballarat, where the prospectors had been at work'. In all probability, then, the period of Watson's Australian residence was before he reached the age of 13. [5] No reader of Watson's narrative can have failed to notice his curious treatment of his mother. [6] The explanation must surely lie in Mrs. Watson's early decease — probably very soon after her second son's birth. It is, perhaps, a little more fanciful — though not, surely, fantastic — to surmise that she was a devout woman with Tractarian leanings, and that before her death she breathed a last wish into her husband's ear that the child should be called John Henry, after the great Newman himself. Unable to face life in the old home, Watson père set out to make a new life in Australia, taking his two young children with him. Whether he had good luck in the gold-fields round Ballarat or in other spheres of speculative adventure, it is evident that he prospered. Of the influence of this Australian upbringing on the character of Doctor Watson we have abundant evidence: his sturdy common sense, his coolness, his adaptability to rough conditions on Dartmoor or elsewhere are marks of that tightening of moral and physical fibre which comes from the hard schooling of colonial life. Londoner as he afterwards became, Watson was always ready to doff the bowler hat, to slip his revolver into his coat pocket, and to face a mystery or a murder-gang with a courage which was as steady as it was unostentatious. But to return to Watson's boyhood: that he was sent to one of the public schools of England can hardly be doubted, since one of his intimate friends was Percy Phelps, 'a very brilliant boy' who, after a triumphant career at Cambridge, obtained a Foreign Office appointment. He was 'extremely well connected'. 'Even when we were all little boys together,' writes Watson, 'we knew that his mother's brother was Lord Holdhurst, the great Conservative politician.' But Watson's sturdy colonialism was proof against the insidious poison of schoolboy snobbery, and took little account of Phelps's 'gaudy relationship'. The boy was designated by no more dignified name than 'Tadpole', and his fellows found it 'rather a piquant thing' to 'chevy him about the playground and hit him over the shins with a wicket' — a sentence which suggests that Watson's school, like many others, preserved certain peculiarities of vocabulary, keeping the old term 'play-ground' for 'playing-field' and using 'wicket' in the sense of 'stump'. That it was a 'rugger' school there can be little doubt. How else would Watson have played three-quarter for Blackheath in later years? Characteristically, Watson never alludes to his prowess on the football field, until he is reminded of it by 'big Bob Ferguson', who once 'threw him over the ropes into the crowd at the Old Deer Park'. [7] In class-work we may conclude that Watson was able, rather than brilliant; he was two forms below 'Tadpole' Phelps, though of the same age; his school number was thirty-one. [8] Of Watson's student days we have but scanty record. At St. Bartholomew's Hospital he found himself in an atmosphere that has always been steeped in the tradition of the literary physician, [9] and it is clear that Watson was not of those who are content with the broad highway of the ordinary text-book. The learned and highly specialized monograph of Percy Trevelyan upon certain obscure nervous lesions, though something of a burden to its publishers, had not escaped the eye of the careful Watson; [10] nor was he unfamiliar with the researches of French psychologists. [11] With such interests in the finer points of neurological technique, it may at first sight seem strange that Watson should have chosen the career of an army surgeon, but after what has already been said of Watson's colonial background, it is clear that in the full vigour of early manhood he could not face the humdrum life of the general practitioner. The appeal of a full, pulsing life of action, coupled with the camaraderie of a regimental mess, was irresistible. Accordingly, we find him proceeding to the army surgeon's course at Netley. Whether he played 'rugger' for the United Services is uncertain; his qualification as a 'Club' three-quarter was a high one, but it is probable that at this period his passion for horses was developed. His summer quarters were near Shoscombe in Berkshire, and the turf never lost its attraction for him. Half of his wound pension, as he once, confessed to Holmes, was spent on racing. [12] But the scene was soon to be changed. At the end of his course Watson was duly posted to the Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. With what zest may we picture him opening his account with Cox & Co. at Charing Cross, [13] and purchasing his tin trunk, pith helmet, and all the equipment necessary for Eastern service; with what quiet satisfaction must he have supervised the painting of the legend JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., upon his tin dispatch-box! But events were moving quickly; before Watson could join his regiment, the Second Afghan War had broken out. It was in the spring of 1880 that Watson embarked, in company with other officers, for service of our Indian dominion. At Bombay he received intelligence that his corps 'had advanced through the passes and was already deep in the enemy's country.' At Kandahar, which had been occupied by the British in July, [14] Watson joined his regiment, but it was not with his own regiment that he was destined to go into action: 'The Fifth marched back to Peshawar, and from there to Lawrencepore; and... in September they received orders for home... So they turned their backs on the tragedy of Maiwand.' [15] To Watson, however, the battle of Maiwand, fought on 27th July, 1880, was to become only too vivid a memory. He was removed from his own brigade and attached to the Berkshires (the 66th Foot), the story of whose heroic resistance at Maiwand has passed into military history. [16] Early in the course of the engagement, but not before he had, without loss of nerve, seen his comrades hacked to pieces, [17] Watson had been struck on the left shoulder by a Jezail bullet. The bone was shattered and the bullet grazed the subclavian artery; but, thanks to his orderly, Murray, to whose courage and devotion Watson pays a marked tribute, he was saved from falling into the hands of 'the murderous Ghazis', and after a pack-horse journey which must have aggravated the pain of the wounded limb, reached the British lines in safety. Of Watson's comrades-in-arms we know little; but seven years later we find his referring to his 'old friend Colonel Hayter' as having come under his professional care in Afghanistan. [18] Hayter is described as 'a fine old soldier who had seen much of the world', and it would seem fairly safe to identify him with the Major Charles Hayter who was director of Kabul Transport in the Second Afghan War. [19] The story of Watson's experiences in the base hospital at Peshawar, of his gradual convalescence, of his severe attack of enteric fever ('that curse', in his own graphic phrasing, 'of our Indian possessions'), of his final discharge, and of his return to England either late in 1880 or early in 1881, may be read in the pages of his own narrative. [20] With no kith or kin in England, with a broken constitution and a pension of 11s. 6d. a day, a man of weaker fibre than John H. Watson might well have sunk into dejection or worse. But Watson quickly realized the dangers of his comfortless and meaningless existence: even the modest hotel in the Strand he found to be beyond his means. Standing one day in the Criterion bar, 'as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut', he was tapped on the shoulder by young Stamford, who had been a dresser under him at Bart.'s. Overjoyed to see a friendly face, Watson immediately carried him off to lunch at the Holborn, where he explained his most pressing need — cheap lodgings. Young Stamford looked 'rather strangely' over his wine-glass. Had he some kind of intuition that he was to be one of the great liaison-officers of literary history, that he was shortly to bring about meeting comparable in its far-reaching influences with hat other meeting arranged by Tom Davies in Russell Street, Covent Garden, more than a hundred years before? Taking Watson with him to the chemical laboratory at St. Bartholomew's, young Stamford fulfilled his mission: 'Dr. Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes...' 'How are you?... You have been in Afghanistan, I perceive.' 'How on earth did you know that?...' Such was the initiatory dialogue. Holmes and Watson quickly agreed to share rooms [21], and the load of depression was lifted from Watson's mind. Life had a new interest for him; the element of mystery about his prospective fellow-lodger struck him as 'very piquant'; as he aptly quoted to young Stamford: 'the proper study of mankind is man...' The walls of No. 221B Baker Street [22] bear no commemorative tablet. It is doubtful indeed whether the house has survived the latter-day onslaught of steel and concrete. Yet Baker Street remains for ever permeated with the Watsonian aura. The dim figures of the Baker Street irregulars scuttle through the November gloom, the ghostly hansom drives away, bearing Holmes and Watson on an errand of mystery. For some time Holmes himself remained a mystery to his companion. But on the 4th March, 1881, he revealed him-self as a consulting detective ('probably the only one in the world'), and on the same day there came Inspector Gregson's letter relating to the Lauriston Gardens Mystery. After much hesitation Holmes decided to take up the case. 'Get your hat,' he called to Watson; and though Watson accompanied his friend to the Brixton Road with little enthusiasm, Holmes's brusque summons was in fact a trumpet-call to a new life for Watson. In the course of the adventure which is known to history as A Study in Scarlet, Watson's alertness as a medical man is immediately evident. His deduction of the solubility in water of the famous pill was quick and accurate; nor did he fail to diagnose an aortic aneurism in Jefferson Hope. 'The walls of his chest', he recorded in his graphic way, 'seemed to thrill and quiver as a frail building would do inside when some powerful engine was at work. In the silence of the room I could hear a dull humming and buzzing noise which proceeded from the same source.' At this stage the friendship between Watson and Holmes was only in the making: Holmes still addressed his companion as 'Doctor'. But it was in his first adventure that Watson found his true métier. 'I have all the facts in my journal and the public shall know them.' Between 1881 and 1883 (the year of The Speckled Band) we have little record of Watson's doings. Possibly he divided his time quietly between Baker Street and his club. More probably he spent a portion of this period abroad. His health and spirits were improving; he had no family ties in England; Holmes was at times a trying companion. Now in later years Watson refers to 'an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents.' [23] The three continents are clearly Europe, India, and Australia. In Australia he had been but a boy; in India he can have seen few women except the staff-nurses at Peshawar. It is conceivable, though not likely, that he revisited Australia at this time. It is much more probable that Watson spent some time on the Continent and that, in particular, he visited such resorts as contained the additional attraction of a casino. Gambling was the ruling passion of the Watson family. Watson père had gambled on his luck as an Australian prospector — and won; his elder son gambled on life — and lost; the younger son (a keen racing man' [24] and a dabbler in stocks and shares [25]) no doubt won, and lost, at rouge et noir. By the time of The Speckled Band it is noteworthy that the intimacy between Watson and Holmes has very considerably developed. Watson is no longer 'Doctor' but 'My dear Watson'; Holmes's clients are bidden to speak freely in front of his 'intimate friend and associate'; if there is danger afoot, Watson has but one thought: Can he be of help? 'Your presence', Holmes told him in the case of the Speckled Band, 'might be invaluable."Then', comes the quick reply, 'I shall certainly come.' It is the old campaigner who speaks. The years 1884 and 1885 are again barren of detailed Watsonian record; and here again it is possible that Watson spent part of his time on the Continent. But with the year 1886 we approach one of the major biographical problems of Watson's career — the date of his first marriage. For a proper consideration of the problem it is necessary, first, to clear one's mind of sentiment. We may remember Holmes's own criticism of Watson's first narrative: 'Detection is, or ought to be, an exact science, and should be treated in the same cold and unemotional manner. You have attempted to tinge it with romanticism... The biographer, when he reaches the story of Watson's courtship, must necessarily endeavour to do justice to its idyllic quality, but, primarily, he is concerned with a problem. Let us review our data: (1) In The Sign of Four, Miss Morstan, according to Watson's narrative, used the phrase: 'About six years ago — to be exact, upon the 4th May, 1882...' This would appear to date the adventure between April and June, 1888. (2) A Scandal in Bohemia is specifically dated loth March, 1888, and evidently occurred a considerable time after Watson's marriage. Watson had drifted away from Baker Street, and Holmes had been far afield — in Holland and Odessa. (3) At the time of The Reigate Squires, April, 1887, Holmes and Watson were still together in Baker Street. (4) The adventure of The Five Orange Pips is dated September, 1887, and occurred after Watson's marriage (his wife was visiting her aunt and he had taken the opportunity to occupy his old quarters at Baker Street). A brief summary of this kind does not, of course, pretend to include all the available data, but is at least sufficient to indicate certain contradictions which Holmes himself would have found difficult to reconcile. Suppose, for instance, that we accept the traditional date for Watson's engagement to Miss Morstan — the year 1888. In that case the marriage cannot have taken place until the late summer or autumn of that year. What, then, becomes of the extremely precise dating of A Scandal in Bohemia and The Five Orange Pips? One thing is clear: Watson, careful chronicler as he is, cannot have been consistently accurate in his dates. The traditional assignment of The Sign of Four to the year 1888 rests upon Watson's report of Miss Morstan's conversation; the dates of The Reigate Squires and of The Five Orange Pips are first-hand statements of Watson himself. Now Watson, when he wrote the journal of The Sign of Four, cannot be said to have been writing in his normal, business-like condition. From the moment that Miss Morstan entered the sitting-room of No. 221B Baker Street, he was carried away by what he picturesquely calls 'mere will-o'-the wisps of the imagination'. He tried to read Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man, but in vain; his mind ran upon Miss Morstan — 'her smiles, the deep, rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life'. Further, the Beaune he had taken for lunch had, on his own confession, affected him, and he had been brought to a pitch of exasperation by Holmes's extreme deliberation of manner. On the whole, then, was this a state of mind calculated to produce chronological accuracy? On the other hand, there are no such reasons to make us doubt the accuracy of The Reigate Squires and The Five Orange Pips; and if we accept the dates of these, the marriage must be fixed between April and September, 1887. Now, assuming that Miss Morstan shared the common prejudice against the unlucky month, it is not likely that the ceremony took place in May. June, on the other hand, seems extremely probable, since The Naval Treaty (July, 1887) is described as 'immediately succeeding the marriage'. Accordingly, we are driven to conclude that The Sign of Four belongs to the year 1886, in the autumn of which Watson became engaged. In the early part of 1887 Watson would be busy buying a practice, furnishing a house and dealing with a hundred other details. This would explain why, of the v ery large number of cases with which Holmes had to deal in this year, Watson has preserved full accounts of only a few. He had made rough notes, but had no time to elaborate them. 'All these', he writes in a significant phrase, 'I may sketch out at some future date.' Again, if June, 1887 be accepted as the date of the marriage, the opening of A Scandal in Bohemia becomes for the first time intelligible. Between June, 1887 and March, 1888 there was plenty of time for Watson to put on seven pounds in weight as the result of married happiness and for Holmes to attend to separate summonses from Odessa and The Hague. To claim definite certainty for such a solution would be extravagant; but as a working hypothesis it has claims which cannot be lightly dismissed. X